


Crawl, Walk, Run, Fly

by liolytus



Category: B.A.P, Big Bang (Band), GOT7, SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anxiety, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family fun, Humor, M/M, Not as angsty as it sounds, Past Abuse, Platonic Soulmates, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Teen Romance, Teenage Rebellion, hopekook are brothers, jimyoung are brothers, markbumjaebam are brothers, no one is functional, some romance (slash), taejoongyeom are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liolytus/pseuds/liolytus
Summary: When Mark returns home with Seokjin, he shakes up the little world he left behind. Jaebum fights himself at every turn. Namjoon just wants to find a singer for the band he's in with Yoongi and Hoseok, but Yoongi's struggling with feelings and helping Jungkook figure himself out and Hoseok is always busy with other things. Jinyoung tries to be a good friend to Jaebum and good brother to Jimin on top of his own problems. Taehyung struggles with a shocking revelation, Jimin fights to overcome himself. BamBam just wants his family to go back to normal, Yugyeom just wishes he wasn't always in someone's shadow, and where is Jackson in all of this?RATED FOR eventual adult themes and possible non-explicit sexual content (this isn't going to be smut, I'm just leaving myself some space to breathe without worrying about the rating), as well as some language (again, not pervasive, but imagine sort of the MPAA's "brief strong language" in several places).





	1. Seokjin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! This is my first story here, so I'd love some feedback!

The bus pulled to a stop and Seokjin took a deep breath. Beside him, Mark was stuffing his laptop and charger in his backpack—they’d spent the past few hours watching _The Princess Bride_ , which Seokjin had never heard of until Mark showed it to him.

“Ready?” Mark asked.

“I’m admiring you more by the minute,” Seokjin said. “How did you do this all alone? I’m going to know you, but you didn’t have anyone.”

Seokjin was referring to the day Mark had moved in with Seokjin’s family, in a new country, without a friend on their side of the ocean, and stayed there for four years. By comparison, the nerves Seokjin felt about returning the favor—living with Mark for college, in his country—must be negligible, but Seokjin had been almost ready to throw up for the last few hours of the ride.

Mark shrugged. “You’ve come this far, it’s not like you can turn around and go back. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

Seokjin nodded, but Mark’s answer did little to relieve his anxiety. They got off the bus into the cold night air—too cold for August, in Seokjin’s opinion.

But he supposed he’d get used to it.

“Mark?”

They turned to see two people standing beneath a lamppost, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a boy—he looked in his mid-teens—with sharp, angular features. Both shared Mark’s prominent straight nose.

“Mark!” Mark’s mother ran forward, the boy with her following a bit more cautiously. “Mark,” she said again, wrapping him in her arms, and she was crying and so was Mark now.

Seokjin met the boy who’d come with Mark’s mother—he was pretty sure it was BamBam, Mark’s youngest brother, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d only seen the boy in a picture Mark brought with him—Mark hadn’t been allowed to see his family at all in the four years he’d been away, as the program had stated. Only one phone call a month, for a limited amount of time.

The same regulations that Seokjin would have to abide by, now that he was here.

Mark’s mother just kept saying his name over and over again, cooing and petting his hair. When she finally stepped back and Seokjin got a better look, he saw that, while Mark and BamBam shared her nose, it was clear that Mark looked more like her, while BamBam looked (assumedly) more like their father—his face was even more angular, all sharp, dramatic edges, while Mark’s had some of his mother’s softness, especially around the eyes.

“And this is Seokjin,” Mark said, leading his mother to Seokjin. “He’s the one I’ve been living with for the past few years.”

“Thank you for taking care of my son,” Mark’s mother said, pulling Seokjin into his own hug, which he felt himself melting into, realizing now why Mark had stuck so close to Seokjin’s mother when he’d first arrived; Seokjin was already missing his mother’s hugs, and Mark’s mother’s were probably about as close as he would get.

“I’m afraid he did more taking care of _me_ ,” Seokjin said into her shoulder, but she only chuckled wetly.

“Seokjin, this is my brother, BamBam.”

Seokjin finally stepped away from Mrs. Im and looked at BamBam, who gave him a smile that was as uncertain as it was wide and friendly.

“Nice to finally meet you, BamBam,” Seokjin said, sticking out a hand. “Mark’s told me a lot about you.”

BamBam’s smile got a little wider. “Well, I can hardly imagine he managed to fit all my good points into four years’ worth of talking, so I hope we can get to know each other while you’re here.”

Seokjin laughed.

“Stop embarrassing yourself, brat,” Mark muttered, giving his brother a bit of a shove, and the last of the tension seemed to leave BamBam’s body as he shoved Mark back, smiling growing wider.

“Come on, boys,” Mrs. Im said, “we should get home. Mark, Jaebum and Youngjae have an important dance event tonight, so they won’t be back until later, but they’re very excited to see you.”

Seokjin smiled; the most exciting part about the trip had always been the prospect of spending time with Mark’s family—Seokjin was an only child at home, so he wanted to know what it would be like to be with Mark’s three younger brothers. Chaotic, if Mark’s stories were anything to go by.

They only had about a block to walk before they stopped outside a large brick house Seokjin recognized from Mark’s pictures. As they walked through the gate, up the steps, and through the front door, Seokjin watched as a few more tears escaped Mark’s eyes.

“Welcome home,” Mrs. Im whispered as they stood in the entryway.


	2. Yoongi

The crowd roared as, on stage, Hoseok's crew did an especially impressive move—Yoongi assumed. Even after watching Hoseok’s dancers perform for years, he knew very little about what was _actually_ impressive or not. He knew what he liked, what he thought looked cool, but that didn’t always equate.

Next to him, Jinyoung was jumping in time to the beat, cheering and bobbing with the best of them, letting out a whoop as most of the dancers dropped to the floor, leaving only Jimin—Jinyoung’s brother—standing, executing a few moves that had some girls to Yoongi’s left shrieking like they were being murdered. Then Jimin stepped back and Hoseok took center stage to end the performance. Yoongi almost drowned the girls out with his cheers when the stage went dark.

After a few moments, another group took the stage, and while Yoongi nodded along to the beat and Jinyoung watched with critical eyes, they weren’t paying nearly as close attention.

So Jinyoung apparently didn’t mind talking.

“Heard you screaming for Hobi up there,” he said with a smirk.

Yoongi was most certainly not blushing at the comment.

“What’s it to you?” he asked shortly, reminding himself again that he didn’t _really_ know Jinyoung, so it didn’t matter if he was a little rude. Really, Jinyoung was Jaebum’s friend, Jaebum was Hobi’s friend, and Hobi was Yoongi’s…friend. Jinyoung was a friend of a friend of a…friend.

Jinyoung shrugged, but his eyes were still on Yoongi.

“You look like you’re burning holes in Yoongi’s head,” Namjoon said, coming up on Yoongi’s other side.

“Yoongi’s refusing to admit he was screaming for Hobi,” Jinyoung said with a shrug. Then his eyes narrowed. “Where are the kids, Namjoon?”

Namjoon froze, looking around. “Oh no.”

Yoongi swore. “Namjoon,” he said sharply, you stay here in case they come here looking for us. Jinyoung—”

“I’ll look for Youngjae, you find Tae.” Jinyoung turned and strode off into the gyrating crowd, Yoongi following a bit more slowly. Jinyoung’s job would be easy; Youngjae, getting separated from Namjoon, would almost certainly either stay by the bar or find a quiet corner to hide in. Tae, on the other hand…

Yoongi groaned. Tae would find where the party was loudest, wildest, and most un-Yoongi-est and plant himself right in the middle.

Keeping up a steady stream of profanity, Yoongi struggled through the crowd. They were playing some sort of poppy hip hop now and the entire crowd was yelling along. Suddenly, he heard a deep, familiar voice bellowing the vocal part, and he began to shove through the crowd towards the voice with renewed vigor, thanking whatever god might exist when he saw Tae’s orange-streaked (for the concert only, his parents would never had let him permanently die his hair) head of hair. Not bothering to try and yell over all the noise, he reached up and grabbed one of the younger boy’s ears, yanking him along, away from all his new “friends” and back to where they’d left Namjoon.

“What were you thinking?” Namjoon fumed when he saw his younger brother.

“I just wanted to ask the bartender about his tattoo,” Tae said, whining a little. “And then you were gone and Youngjae was gone and I just thought I’d come find you, but then they put this song on and you _know_ how much I love it and then these other people were singing along too, so I—”

“Okay, okay, it’s fine,” Namjoon said, apparently giving up on making Tae see the error of his ways. “Just…stick closer to me next time, okay?”

Tae bobbed his head, eyes wide and sincere—until he was distracted and started jumping and pointing. “Jiminie! Chim Chim! Hobi! Jaebummie!”

Yoongi turned back to the stage, where Jimin, Hobi, Jaebum, and a few other of the older students were standing, heads down, on the dimly-lit stage. Taemin, the owner of the dance studio, stepped forward and took the mic from a stage hand.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he began. “Before our last performance of the evening, I’d like to thank everyone who’s worked so hard to make this studio possible—primarily the dancers you see up here with me. Eight years ago, having a studio like this was just a pipe dream for me and my four idiot friends, one of whom, unfortunately couldn’t be here today,” he motioned to his friends, whose names Yoongi couldn’t remember—one of them went by the stage name Key when he was rapping, and the one who “couldn’t be there,” Yoongi knew, was Jonghyun, who’d died only a few months after the studio opened—“and then JB, Hobi, and our little Chim Chim here started dancing with us, and now we’ve become the studio you see today. So the seven of us, as the founding members, have put together a dance to show our appreciation for you in the audience—without you, we’d just be a bunch of kids running around a stage.” He bowed as the crowd cheered and the lights dimmed again for a moment before the speakers started to spit out a beat, and the dancers began to move.

Yoongi watched them, his stomach doing something strange each time Hoseok did something especially striking—so every few beats. And when the music ended and the seven dancers were kneeling on the stage—all holding one hand in a J-shape over their hearts—Yoongi was cheering again, watching as they got to their feet and bowed before leaving the stage, slapping each other on the back and talking excitedly.


	3. Hoseok

“That was _incredible_ ,” Taemin gasped as they left the stage.

“You guys were awesome!”

Hoseok turned to see Jungkook and Yugyeom, the youngest members at the dance studio and his and his best friend’s younger brothers. Yugyeom, Namjoon’s youngest brother, had been dancing with them for years, but Jungkook—Hoseok’s own brother—had just joined this year after Yugyeom begged him. Hoseok was glad; he hoped it would help Jungkook make friends outside his very small social circle.

“Good job, good job, well done, spectacular,” Jinki and Minho were going around saying, but Hoseok knew they were eager to get going—they and Kibum had an apartment outside the city limits because it was cheaper and because, after a few years, the small apartment above the studio had gotten too small for all four to live in, so now it was just Taemin’s.

“Celebratory drinks?” Hoseok asked the remaining members of the group. “Joon, Yoongi, Jinyoung, and the kids are waiting.”

Jaebum, who had seemed quiet all evening, sighed a little. “I can’t. Youngjae and I need to get home. Mark’s back tonight.”

Hoseok choked on his water.

“What?” Yugyeom was staring at Jaebum, Jungkook too. Jimin, who was halfway out of his shirt, had frozen.

“Who’s Mark?” Taemin asked, looking around.

Hoseok supposed, all things considered, it wasn’t all that surprising that Taemin didn’t know who Mark was. None of the Im brothers really talked about Mark anymore—for a few different reasons. There were no pictures of him, either, since his eighth grade graduation, when he’d still had a baby face and BamBam had pink in his hair. But Hoseok still remembered Mark from the first few years he’d known Jaebum, when Mark had always been the responsible older brother, making sure they didn’t get too out of hand, being in charge when Mrs. Im was gone. He also knew Mark from conversations he’d had later, late-night conversations with Jaebum almost too frustrated to articulate what he was upset about.

“I didn’t realize he was back so soon,” Hoseok said carefully.

“Yeah, BamBam didn’t tell us!” Yugyeom added, looking a little offended.

“We didn’t really know the exact date until last night,” Jaebum said, and his shoulders were sagging, eyes on the floor. “I think Bam’s still figuring out how he feels about it.”

Yugyeom nodded sagely and Jungkook followed suit.

“Mark’s my older brother,” Jaebum added, finally answering Taemin’s question.

“I…didn’t know you had an older brother.” Taemin seemed to be reconsidering him, and Hoseok understood; Jaebum seemed like such an oldest brother, caring for BamBam and Youngjae naturally, all the time.

“He’s been gone for a long time,” Jaebum said, very quietly.

They got changed mostly in silence after that, but once they left the backstage, they were surrounded by people congratulating them, and Hoseok was briefly separated from the others as his parents were praising him and Jungkook, but then he saw how Youngjae’s shoulders were sagging as Jaebum pulled him away from Jinyoung, who seemed surprised and confused by whatever Jaebum was telling him. Hoseok hated to see Jaebum as upset as he clearly was, but to see something getting Youngjae down actually hurt Hoseok’s heart.

Trying not to analyze that too much, Hoseok made his way over, Jungkook clinging to the back of his jacket.

“You guys were so great!” Namjoon was shouting, hugging first Hoseok, then Jungkook. Then Yoongi was hugging him, feeling as strangely fragile as ever, and pulling Jungkook under one arm.

“Thanks,” Hoseok muttered, eyes still on the Im brothers. “Jaebum!”

Jaebum turned, already heading out.

“Do you guys want some company?” and Hoseok’s heart did a weird sort of flip when he saw the smile that slowly spread across Youngjae’s face—then dropped when he saw the Jaebum’s expression cloud even further.

“Better not,” the older brother called back, pulling Youngjae closer and looking apologetically miserable.

Hoseok nodded, eyes lingering on Youngjae’s a moment longer, and something about that made him feel a little sick. Turning, he met Yoongi’s eyes instead, which only made him feel worse, because whenever Yoongi saw him staring at Youngjae, he got a look like he was in physical pain, which almost caused Hoseok physical pain. Life really just shouldn’t be this complicated.


	4. Seokjin

“You’re just sad you could never pull this off,” BamBam said austerely, modeling his brightly-patterned cardigan for Mark and Seokjin. Glancing at Mrs. Im, Seokjin suspected she shared their reservations about the article of clothing, which was pink, yellow, green, blue, white, _and_ black, and not a single color was in any way muted.

“I’m just glad I’d never want to,” Seokjin said with a shrug, and Mark, who was sitting somewhat stiffly by him on the couch, snorted.

“Mark,” BamBam whined, “you should be on _my_ side. You’re my big brother!”

“Speaking of big brothers,” Mrs. Im said, frowning first at her watch, then at the front door. “I don’t know where Jaebum and Youngjae could be.”

“So Jaebum’s still dancing?” Mark asked.

Mrs. Im’s face brightened. “Yes! His group is very good—everyone says. I don’t really know, and he won’t always let us go to these events. He says I wouldn’t like it, whatever that means.”

Seokjin, who’d had a few dancer friends back at home, could guess what that might mean.

“And Youngjae is dancing now, too?” Mark asked.

“No, he just goes to support Jaebum,” Mrs. Im replied. “And I don’t like the idea of Jaebum driving home alone—they sometimes have alcohol at these events, and I _know_ Jaebum would never drink, but with peer pressure, sometimes things happen…”

Seokjin carefully didn’t say anything, remembering vividly his and Mark’s first experience drinking, and the hangover they’d had the next morning. Just thinking about it hurt his head. He did vaguely remember Mark saying his parents were strict about alcohol and other things like that.

“I usually go, too,” BamBam said, loudly, as if the conversation had centered around something else for a bit too long in his opinion. “Yugyeom dances with them. And Yugyeom and I finally convinced Jungkook to join.”

“Yugyeom?” Mark asked, frowning a little.

“Yes, this family moved in down the street, the Kims, and they have three boys—one JB’s age, one a year younger than Youngjae, and one BamBam’s age, so the youngest, Yugyeom, is thick as thieves with BamBam here and Jungkook.”

As Mrs. Im finished speaking, a key turned in the lock of the door and it opened, letting two boys in.

Seokjin had only seen a few pictures Mark had brought with him, and all of them were now four years old, but he was startled by the appearance of the remaining Im brothers.

On the one hand, he recognized Youngjae in an instant. He had the same broad face that seemed to be made for smiling, his features the softest and most like their mother’s of all the Im boys.

But Jaebum.

Had Seokjin met Jaebum and Mark on the street, he would never have guessed they were related, and almost certainly would have assumed Jaebum to be the elder.

He had BamBam’s height—another trait they seemed to have inherited from their father—and angular features, but his weren’t as wildly dramatic as BamBam’s. In fact, his appearance was…just about perfect. He was tall and thin with high cheekbones and slim, dark eyes, two moles above the left eye giving his face even more personality. Both ears were pierced and his eyes were lined with black makeup, all of it combining to make him by far the most intimidating of the brothers.

There was a beat of silence as Mark looked at his brothers, before BamBam leapt to his feet. “Jaebum! Youngjae! Mark’s home!” He dragged Mark over to them and practically shoved him into Youngjae’s arms.

It was awkward for a moment, neither seeming to know what to do, and then Mark straightened a bit and pulled Youngjae closer, allowing the (slightly) smaller boy to tuck himself into Mark’s narrow chest.

“Hey JaeJae,” Mark muttered.

When they broke apart, Youngjae was sniffling and Mark didn’t seem to trust his voice, but even then the younger boy drew slightly closer to Jaebum, away from Mark.

And Jaebum.

Jaebum’s face was emotionless and his posture was rigid.

“Bummie,” Mark said, tentatively.

“Hi Mark,” Jaebum said, wrapping an arm around Youngjae, who let himself be pulled against Jaebum’s side.

“How’d your dance thing go?” Mark asked, clearly forcing himself through each word.

Jaebum shrugged. “It was fine.”

“They were so good!” Youngjae gushed, seeming to come alive. “Yugyeomie and Jungkookie did really good, too!” He stood on his toes to say this over Mark’s shoulder, to BamBam, and for a moment his eyes met Seokjin’s. His entire face turned bright red and he seemed to be almost trying to hide behind Jaebum.

“Yeah, this is Seokjin,” Mark explained, motioning to Seokjin, who stood and greeted both boys. Youngjae avoided eye contact. Jaebum shook his hand, but there was nothing friendly about the way he was looking at Seokjin.

Perhaps sensing the tension, Mrs. Im said, “Well, I’m sure everyone is tired—We can catch up more in the morning.”

They all nodded and Seokjin followed Mark up the stairs. “You don’t mind sharing with me, do young?” Mark asked as they walked.

Seokjin shook his head, the tiredness beginning to really sink in. Even though he’d never shared a room before—his parents’ home had plenty of extra rooms, even with Mark there—he didn’t mind the idea of having some company that night.

On the second floor, there were four doors, two on either side of the hallway. BamBam took the first door to their right, Jaebum and Youngjae the first door to their left. Motioning at the other door to their left, Mark said, “That’s the bathroom—sorry, there’s just this one and one downstairs that’s kind of our mom’s, so we’ll have to share this one with them.” Then he opened the door to their right.

It was clear Mrs. Im had put time and effort into preserving Mark’s room. Though it was clear little had been changed, it had obviously been dusted and vacuumed regularly.

It was the room of the fifteen-year-old who had first arrived at Seokjin’s house so long ago now. It was surreal; there were posters for the bands Mark _had_ liked, the bookshelf held all the books Seokjin _had_ loved and the TV shows he _had_ followed. The bedspread _had_ been his favorite color. There was a picture of Mark with what _had_ been his family—now barely recognizable.

Stepping closer to the picture, Seokjin saw it wasn’t just the Im family—there were some other kids there.

“That day, we were each allowed to bring a friend to go out to lunch and a play in the park,” Mark said quietly. “I…didn’t really have anyone I wanted to bring, so I let Jaebum bring Jinyoung as my friend.”

Which explained why BamBam had his arms wrapped around a boy with huge eyes, Youngjae was resting his hand on the head of a boy with bright orange hair, and Jaebum was standing with his arms around two boys—all three about fourteen or so. But looking closer, Seokjin saw that, almost stealthily, Mark was glancing at one of Jaebum’s friends, and their hands lingered close, as though they’d just let go for the picture.

“So Jaebum brought Hoseok and Jinyoung,” he tapped the faces behind the glass, “BamBam brought Jungkook, and Youngjae brought Jimin mostly because Jungkook is Hobi’s brother and Jimin is Jinyoung’s, so…”

“Jinyoung’s Jaebum’s friend?” Seokjin repeated doubtfully, looking a bit closer at the dark-haired boy. He was perhaps the most gangly and awkward-looking of the three.

“Yeah.”

“Not yours?” Seokjin prodded. He never would have asked the Mark in the picture this, but Mark had changed. He liked different bands, read different books, followed different shows, had a new favorite color, and seemed to consider Seokjin’s question seriously.

“I kind of thought it might be going somewhere,” he admitted after a moment. “But then…I left.”

Seokjin sighed, but there was also a bit of excitement. He had something to take his mind off of homesickness now; he was going to play matchmaker.


	5. Namjoon

The house was dark when Namjoon pulled into the garage. Entering through the door in the back, Namjoon switched the lights on as soon as he could, sensing Taehyung’s unease.

On the counter, a note from their father said he’d been called away for work and to send him a text when they got home—which Namjoon did, not receiving a reply. They took turns in the shower, then the younger two tried to convince Namjoon to stay up with them and join their horror marathon, but Namjoon had work in the morning, so he promised to join them the next time and retreated to his “room”—really half of the larger of the bedrooms, sectioned off with a curtain. On the other side was Tae and Yugyeom’s bunkbed.

On Namjoon’s side of the curtain, there wasn’t much space—a bed, dresser, and bookshelf. It was a fitting setup, though; for anything other than sleeping, dressing, and reading, he went elsewhere. To study, he went to the library; to think, the park; to write or play music, the studio Hoseok’s parents were helping them pay for.

Which reminded Namjoon.

He made his way back out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where the family’s shared computer sat. He turned it on and waited a moment, logging into his profile with a fifteen-character password. Checking his email, his shoulders sagged a little. There was still no response to their attempts to find a lead singer for their band. They had everything else—Namjoon wrote lyrics and played bass, Yoongi wrote music and played drums, and Hoseok was the heart and soul of their group as lead guitarist, but they still needed someone to sing Namjoon’s lyrics to Yoongi’s melodies.

If it came right down to it, they could all sing a little, but not the way they wanted to hear their songs sung, so they were looking everywhere. They’d talked a bit about trying to convince Jinyoung to do it—he had a nice voice (still not quite the raw quality they were looking for, though)—but he was already incredibly busy all the time. Hobi said Taemin and Jaebum could both sing, but both had turned down the job, saying they had too much to do already—which was true. Tae loved singing, but he wasn’t always great at staying on pitch and he was a little young. Jimin sang in choir like his brother, but had point-blank refused to even sing in front of them, going on about his voice not being very good. He’d directed them to Youngjae, who had turned bright red and been unable to form coherent sentences, running to hide behind Jaebum.

And to think they’d once wanted a lead singer and two backups.


	6. Jinyoung

Jinyoung dropped his keys in the bowl by the door as he and Jimin walked into their house. Somewhere upstairs, their aunt, uncle, and cousins were probably already asleep. As quietly as possible, the brothers got out the mattress they slept on and put the sheets on it. Getting his clothes out for the next day, Jinyoung realized he really needed to do laundry, but that meant making a special trip to the laundromat in town and spending an afternoon there, where it was never worth even bringing homework because it was always too loud to work. After brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink, he returned to the living room, where Jimin was already curled up on his side, breathing regular.

Jinyoung lay down beside him, facing away, and as always, Jimin snuggled into his back. Pulling the blanket over them, Jinyoung closed his eyes, murmuring, “Goodnight.”


	7. Jungkook

Jungkook stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wearing only a towel around his waist. He supposed he wasn’t _un_ attractive. Not repulsive, surely. But how did other people see him? Was he attractive? Pretty? Cute? Handsome?

The door without warning and Hoseok ambled in. “Save the flexing for the ladies, Kookie,” he said, grinning.

Jungkook flushed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. “You were really great tonight,” he muttered.

Hoseok laughed. “So were you, Kook. Are you enjoying it?”

Jungkook was a little taken aback by the question. “I guess,” he said reflexively.

Hoseok turned to him, frowning slightly, toothbrush in his mouth. Taking it out, he said, “I know you’re still a little new, but if you don’t like it, that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel like you’ll be disappointing me or Taemin or Yugyeom if you don’t end up liking this. Just…keep an open mind, okay?”

Jungkook nodded and fled the bathroom. Back in his room, he finished getting ready for bed, switched the lights off, and lay down, finally checking his phone and feeling the usual warmth flood through him. He had one notification, a text from Yoongi.

**Yoongi**

Good job tonight

**Jungkook**

Thanks!

Sorry if I woke you up.

Sleep well.

**Yoongi**

You too kid


	8. Jaebum

Careful not to wake Youngjae, Jaebum got dressed in silence and slipped outside, trying to keep his pace normal and not to start running yet. His biggest problem with taking morning runs with Jinyoung was pacing himself—he tended to run as fast as he could until his legs or lungs gave out.

A few streets over, Jinyoung was waiting, face peaceful. Without a word, he fell into step beside Jaebum and they walked to the park where the liked to run, taking off almost perfectly in sync, and for a while they just ran, up and down trails they knew all too well. They’d run practically every morning for four years, until it felt weird to go through the day when they hadn’t run together that morning.

After about thirty minutes, they slowed to a jog, then started walking. Stopping at a drinking fountain, Jinyoung finally spoke. “So Mark’s back.”

Jaebum nodded, staring straight ahead and stretching.

A pause, then, “And how are you feeling about that?”

Jaebum sighed. He’d know this conversation was coming, which was part of why he hadn’t told Jinyoung that Mark was coming back, even though of all his friends, Jinyoung deserved to know, for many reasons. For one, Jinyoung had been closest to Mark—closer than Jaebum had realized at the time, apparently. And Jinyoung, even more than Hobi, had been Jaebum’s shoulder to cry on in the following year. Jinyoung had helped him as he struggled to become the oldest brother, had helped him as he struggled to balance things like driving his brothers around while their mother was at work and his own busy dance schedule. Jinyoung had been the one to finally convince him to stick with dance when he saw how much Jaebum loved it.

And here they were, with Jinyoung ready to help Jaebum figure out where Mark fit in his life now. Ready to help him yet again.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “He’s back after all this time and…I don’t know. It was so hard to get used to life without him; what if it’s just as hard to get used to life with him?”

Jinyoung nodded. “How are BamBam and Youngjae?”

Jaebum shrugged. “BamBam seems to be taking it pretty well. Youngjae…I think he likes having Mark back, but this Seokjin guy makes him nervous.”

Jinyoung nodded again. “And does this Seokjin guy seem nice?”

Jaebum shrugged again. “He seems fine. But Mark seems…”

Jinyoung waited.

Jaebum let out a sound of frustration, somewhere between a grunt and a groan. “I don’t know. He’s not the same person he was when he left, because of course he’s changed, but…” He took a deep breath. “I just sort of wanted my big brother back.”

Jinyoung didn’t say anything to that, and that was part of what Jaebum loved about Jinyoung. He didn’t always feel the need to say something. He offered a silent comfort Jaebum craved. It was also something he envied: when he saw a friend in pain, he tried to _fix_ the problem, and sometimes that wasn’t helpful at all.

It wasn’t the only quality of Jinyoung’s he envied; Jinyoung was stronger than Jaebum could ever imagine being, playing the role of both father and brother for Jimin, sacrificing so much so that Jimin could have something close to a normal life. Rather than being bitter, though, Jinyoung seemed to take a sort of peaceful pride in seeing Jimin succeed because of him.

They walked back to Jinyoung’s house together to pick up Jimin, who was waiting on the front steps, texting someone. When Jaebum and Jinyoung had first started running, they’d had to go inside and struggle to wake Jimin up quietly, but after a fateful day when they’d gone in to learn Jimin had been taken to the hospital after their uncle’s pit bulls had gotten lose from their cage in the basement.

“I’m going swimming with Tae today, all right?” Jimin said as they walked on towards Jaebum’s house, where Jinyoung would shower and get ready for his day and Mrs. Im was always more than happy to offer breakfast.

“Sure, just let me know if you’re going to be late.”

Jimin nodded, already texting Tae.

As they got closer to Jaebum’s house, he felt the heaviness he’d been experiencing for the last forty-eight hours set in, dreading facing Mark again.

A hand touched his back as they walked, reminding him that Jinyoung was there, and some of the heaviness lifted.


	9. Yugyeom

When Yugyeom woke up, his phone already had twenty notifications, all from the group chat he shared with Jungkook and BamBam. It seemed BamBam had accidentally run into the guy Mark brought home in the bathroom when BamBam hadn’t perhaps been wearing as much as he should. Yugyeom read the final few with a feeling of impending doom:

**Jungkook**

Just don’t wander around naked!

**BamBam**

Its not that simple! Im used 2 it jb’s used 2 it yj’s used 2 it even mom is kind of used 2 it

Habits are hard 2 break

Uh oh

His scream woke yj and mk up

Theyre not 2 happy

Pray for me

 

Yugyeom groaned and pawed at his face. It was too early for this.

Getting up, he could hear Namjoon snoring in the next room, but Taehyung was already up and dressed, pulling on his shoes.

“Jimin and I are going swimming,” he said, grinning. “Wanna come? You could invite those two.” He pointed at Yugyeom’s phone, probably having read enough to know BamBam needed an out sometime very soon.

“I’ll ask.”

 

**Yugyeom**

I don’t want to know anything more than I do already

TH wants to know if we want to go swimming with him and JM

 

**Jungkook**

Let me ask

Okay

I can go

I’m not sure BB will respond, he might be being murdered as we speak.

 

**Yugyeom**

It’ll probably just happen again tomorrow anyway

 

“They said sure,” he told Taehyung, putting his phone down. “Or, Jungkook did, and I think BamBam’s suffering right now, so he probably wouldn’t mind some rescuing.

Taehyung’s grin widened, looking up from his own phone. “Jimin says he can hear BamBam’s screams.”

Yugyeom groaned, but couldn’t suppress a smile. He knew Youngjae, and although the older boy might be grumpy in the mornings, he was like a big puppy. Mark, on the other hand…BamBam had never met Mark. Would Mark actually punish BamBam?

He was shaken out of his thoughts when a crash sounded from the other room and Namjoon groaned like a dying whale—his usual morning ritual.

Yugyeom got up and hurried to find some clothes.


	10. Seokjin

On his list of things to see within five minutes of waking up, there was no mention of Seokjin’s best friend’s youngest brother’s private parts, but as he stood panting outside the bathroom door, it could officially be added to his list of things he _had_ seen within five minutes of waking up.

“Seokjin? Are you—Are you okay?” BamBam’s voice was timid.

Seokjin didn’t answer for a moment, before forcing out a, “Fine.”

“It’s just…you screamed kind of loudly—” There was a thud as if BamBam had tripped against the door, silence for a moment, then a knock.

“You’re…decent?” Seokjin checked, just to be sure.

“As I ever will be,” BamBam confirmed, and Seokjin stepped away from the door.

BamBam exited, looking a little flushed and with his hair sticking in every direction, but seemingly not nearly as affected by the encounter as Seokjin, who couldn’t meet his eyes. “Sorry,” the younger boy said, but then he was off to his room.

A moment later—Seokjin was still frozen in the hallway—the door to Jaebum and Youngjae’s room opened and the younger of the two emerged, rubbing his eyes. “Who’s screaming? If it’s not because you’re being murdered, I’ll murder you.” He tripped over his overlong-pajama pants and almost fell.

Shaken awake, Seokjin caught him and held him steady.

For a moment, Youngjae seemed to lean into the touch, then he looked up and his whole face went a concerning shade of red. He hastily took a few steps back, almost tripping again, and seemed about to retreat to his room, stopping only to mutter, “Did you scream?”

Unable to think of anything better to say, Seokjin said, “I saw BamBam naked.”

Looking back on it later, after his first cup of coffee, Seokjin might have realized that this was not, perhaps, the most tactful or mature way of handling the situation, but he had been traumatized earlier than usual that morning.

“You _what_?” Mark said from behind him, apparently also having been awakened by Seokjin’s scream.

“I’ll kill him,” Youngjae muttered, turning and pounding on BamBam’s door, face still very red.

“Not without me you won’t,” Mark said, following suit.

Seokjin took this opportunity to slip unnoticed into the bathroom, shutting the doors as BamBam began to scream. Though worried at first, Seokjin paid them no mind after he heard the younger boy begging them to stop tickling him.

A little later, he headed downstairs to see the Im family plus two boys he didn’t know gathered around the kitchen table. Seeing Seokjin, Mrs. Im called, “Seokjin dear, I’m making pancakes! How many would you like to start with?”

Seokjin glanced around to see how many everyone else was having, and saw that they had none. He got the uncomfortable feeling that they’d been waiting on him.

“Just one please,” he said.

“He’ll start with two,” Mark said, shaking his head at Seokjin. He hadn’t showered yet, so his bedhead was in all its glory. Youngjae apparently hadn’t showered either and was still in his pajamas with a sweatshirt pulled on over top, the logo for Bell Dance Studio across the front. BamBam was more collected than before, his hair styled perfectly and even some makeup on his face.

Jaebum was there now, too, and with him were two other boys. One Seokjin recognized immediately, though his hair was now pink instead of orange. Little about the boy’s sweet face had changed from the photograph in Mark’s room, though Seokjin couldn’t remember his name. The other boy was unfamiliar to him, but he was leaning on the counter between the boy from the photograph and Jaebum.

“Jaebum, introduce your friends,”  Mrs. Im chided.

Jaebum didn’t make eye contact as he motioned to them and said, “This is Jinyoung and Jimin. Jinyoung, Jimin, meet Seokjin, Mark’s friend.”

Jimin gave him a sweet smile. He was wearing a pink shirt that, when Seokjin looked closer, also advertised Bell Dance Studio over a black shirt that covered most of his hands. Seokjin, who thought it was far too hot for so early in the day, wondered how Jimin could stand it.

But Seokjin had more pressing issues; primarily that this tall, dark-haired, handsome young man was Jinyoung. Mark’s Jinyoung.

“Nice to meet you,” Jinyoung said, nodding to him. His face remained neutral—almost too neutral. Like a mask.

Seokjin felt a little uneasy, but replied, “The pleasure is all mine.”


	11. Jimin

Breakfast that morning was tense. Jimin had decided not to grill his brother the night before on how he planned to act around Mark—Mark who had once been Jinyoung’s sort-of-almost-sometimes-boyfriend—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep a close eye on their interactions this morning. So far it had been a bit boring; Mark and Jinyoung had greeted each other, Jinyoung had asked how his trip was (as if Mark had just been away for a weekend), and then they hadn’t spoken to or looked at each other since.

After breakfast, Jimin had to keep on top of BamBam to have any chance of being ready when Taehyung and Yugyeom arrived to go to the beach. He invited Youngjae, but the other boy had refused, blushing a bit—not that any of them had really expected anything else, though Jaebum and Jinyoung looked a little disappointed.

Jaebum retreated to his and Youngjae’s room with Jinyoung almost immediately after breakfast, Mark and Seokjin following to their room later. Mrs. Im said she had some errands to run, so that, by the time Taehyung and Yugyeom showed up, it was just Youngjae sitting at the kitchen table with a book in hand and BamBam showing off his piano skills—he only knew one song—for Jimin, who half-listened with his eyes glued to his phone until Taehyung and Yugyeom knocked on the door.

Jimin was ready to leave immediately—he and BamBam were packed and even had copious amounts of food courtesy of Mrs. Im, who’d forced it on them before leaving—but BamBam stalled a bit longer by grabbing Yugyeom’s hand, declaring, “You’ve got to meet Mark!”

Jimin and Taehyung remained downstairs, Taehyung immediately dropping into a seat beside Youngjae.

“For school?” he asked, motioning to the book in Youngjae’s hands.

Youngjae shook his head. “Just for fun.”

“What’s it about?”

Youngjae looked at him closely for a moment, as though wondering if he was being serious, before explaining that it was the story of a girl whose father could read books and bring characters and things from them into the real world. By the time he finished, BamBam and Yugyeom had come back and they left him to read his book in peace.


	12. Yugyeom

It wasn’t that Yugyeom was _nervous_ , exactly. He’d had a faint idea that there was another Im brother, maybe from old photos or something, but he wasn’t sure BamBam had ever mentioned Mark by name before, and now Yugyeom was being dragged bodily up the stairs to meet him, then down the hall to the room across from the bathroom. He’d always just assumed the door led to a closet or something, but clearly not, as BamBam pounded on it, calling, “Mark! Mark! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

Yugyeom held his breath as the door opened.

“Hello?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This is Yugyeom! My friend Mom was telling you about last night!”

Mark seemed to size Yugyeom up a bit, before smiling and holding out a hand.

Smiling did wonders for Mark’s face, in Yugyeom’s opinion—a face that was some strange mixture of BamBam’s and Youngjae’s. He was shorter than Yugyeom—but so were most people—and his face had a very Jaebum-ish quality in that, when he wasn’t smiling, he looked like he would gladly kill someone, but when he smiled, it lit up the room.

“Nice to meet you, Yugyeom,” Mark said, holding out a hand. Yugyeom shook it. “This is my friend, Seokjin.”

Inside the room, a very handsome young man waved to Yugyeom, who waved back—only slightly more awkwardly.

There was a bit of a pause where Mark continued to stand in his doorway, decidedly _not_ inviting them in, and they continued to stand in front of him, apparently waiting. It became awkward very quickly, and BamBam’s face flushed a little as he pulled Yugyeom away.

“Have fun!” Seokjin called after them.

They didn’t say anything on the way back downstairs, but Yugyeom couldn’t help feeling sorry for his friend. He couldn’t imagine trying to get used to Namjoon leaving to begin with, let alone get used to him coming back later.

Also, the idea of Taehyung as the oldest brother terrified him.

“You’re ready?” Jimin asked when they came back down. Taehyung was sitting beside Youngjae, who was talking animatedly to him.

“Yep,” Yugyeom said as brightly as he could. “Mark’s really cool, Tae, you should meet him sometime.”

Taehyung grinned in response, wishing Youngjae happy reading before following Jimin outside.

They walked in comfortable silence most of the way to Jungkook’s house, Jimin and Tae walking in front, hands intertwined and swinging between them. Yugyeom shot occasional glances at BamBam until the other boy said, “Sorry about Mark,” very quietly.

Yugyeom frowned; it was rare to see BamBam so reserved. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like he was rude or something, he—”

“He doesn’t usually act like that,”  BamBam interrupted. “Or he didn’t. I don’t know. It’s like…I don’t know. He used to love hanging out with us.”

“He probably just needs some time,” Yugyeom said, because that sounded right in his head. It sounded like something a mature adult would say in this situation.

“But what if he’s never back to normal?” BamBam asked.

Yugyeom bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what to say. For Mark, he probably was acting normal, but he knew that BamBam was asking when Mark would go back to the way he was. And there was no guarantee that would happen.

So Yugyeom said nothing, afraid of saying the wrong thing, and instead threw an arm over his shorter friend’s shoulders as they walked up to Jungkook’s front door.

Jungkook’s father answered when they knocked, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts—which was still strange to Yugyeom, who was used to seeing Mr. Jung in a math classroom, wearing a suit and tie.

“Hello boys, here for Jungkook? You’re all going to the beach?”

“Yessir!” Taehyung said, rectangular smile on full display.

“Do you need a ride? Hobi’s heading in that direction, I think,” Mr. Jung said, leaning back inside for a moment to yell, “Hoseok! Why don’t you give Kookie and his friends a ride to the beach?”

“It’s Jungkook, Dad,” Jungkook muttered, appearing, face rather red.

“Do you have sunblock on?” Mrs. Jung asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to apply some to her son’s nose.

“Yes! Stop, Mom!” Jungkook yanked away from her.

“What about the rest of you?” Mrs. Jung approached rather ominously with a swirl of sunblock in one hand.

“We’re all blocked, Mrs. Jung!” Taehyung intervened. “What are you and Mr. Jung going to be up to today?”

“Yard work!” Mr. Jung said, grinning almost maniacally. Behind him, Hoseok mimicked the crazed smile as he descended the stairs.

“You boys want a ride?” Hobi asked, ruffling each of their hair in turn.

“Yes! Rides from Hobi!” Taehyung was bouncing up and down a little as he tended to do when he got really excited, which could sometimes cause problems in their dim, cramped living space.

“A ride from Hobi it is!” Mr. Jung said. “Drive safe, wear your seatbelts, mind the speed limits.”

“Yes, Dad,” Hobi said, practically skipping out the door, throwing an arm around Yugyeom as he did. “How’s my favorite youngest dancer on the team?” he asked.

Yugyeom rolled his eyes, but felt his face flush a little all the same. It wasn’t the same as getting a compliment from someone like Jaebum, who rarely gave them, but it still felt pretty good to hear that from Hoseok.

“How’re your brothers doing?” Hobi asked BamBam, and Yugyeom felt his stomach drop. He should’ve seen that one coming.

“They seem okay,” BamBam muttered. “Just…figuring stuff out, I guess.”

Hobi nodded, getting into the driver’s seat of his pickup.

“We’ve got the back!” Yugyeom said, maybe too loudly, from the surprise on Hobi and Jimin’s faces.

Jungkook and BamBam followed him to climb into the bed of the truck, now used to the jolting ride they were in for, excited to feel the hot summer air.

But even as they neared the beach for a day of fun, BamBam’s dark mood didn’t lift.


	13. Hoseok

After dropping Jungkook and his friends off at the beach, Hoseok turned almost the opposite direction to pick up first Namjoon (who needed help cleaning up his breakfast, which he’d dropped on the floor, then Yoongi (whose grandparents forced them all to come in and eat some banana bread). By the time they finally got to the studio, it was almost lunchtime.

Their studio was a room rented out of what had once been a much larger music studio for a company called Big Hit Entertainment, now out of business. It wasn’t much, but they’d slowly over the years pillaged the unused studios around until they’d put together what Yoongi called the Genius Lab, with three separate work stations and a recording booth more or less attached. A table sat in the corner with the necessities on and around it: an improvised charging station (a power strip taped to the wall by the table) for their phones, microwave, refrigerator, and, of course, a coffee maker. Beneath the table were dog beds, dog toys, and an enormous bag of dog food, which was generally shared between three dogs: Yoongi’s Holly, Hoseok’s Mickey, and the stray that Namjoon had adopted and who more or less lived in the Genius Lab, RapMon. On days the three boys wouldn’t be at the studio, Namjoon always made sure to go and get RapMon, taking him back home where Taehyung and Yugyeom were more than happy to see him. Mr. Kim, on the other hand, was not a fan of dogs and wouldn’t let RapMon live with him, so in name at least, RapMon’s home was Genius Lab.

And so they’d turned the little place into a sort of home, a cozy space for them to inhabit, cut off from the rest of the world in the ways they each craved.

Once they’d all said hello to RapMon and Namjoon fed him, they sat at their separate desks, chairs faced towards each other, Namjoon holding RapMon’s toy in one hand as the dog growled and pulled.

“We still don’t have a singer,” Namjoon pointed out. “I think we’re going to have to hold auditions.” The way he said it, you might think he’d just announced they would have to go dumpster diving for a couple of vocal cords. Yoongi’s expression wasn’t much different.

This was something Hoseok had learned from being in a band with two introverts: They would go to practically any lengths to avoid situations where they might meet large groups of people. Not that they could probably expect large groups, but that wasn’t really the point.

“I hate the idea of just picking a voice,” Yoongi said. “We’re a band because we’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. What happens when we pick someone random and throw them into this?”

They both looked at Hoseok, who was chewing his lower lip. RapMon pulled the toy from Namjoon’s loosened grip, then stood there, not quite sure what to do.

“We’re not a band if we don’t have a singer,” Hoseok said finally, completing the circle, completing the conversation they’d had over and over again.

Bored, now, RapMon was chasing his tail in the middle of their circle.

At the end of the day, they wouldn’t hold auditions unless Yoongi willingly agreed. They weren’t a democracy, there was no majority rules; they agreed on things. Sometimes that meant compromise, sometimes it meant one person have to change his mind.

The ritual complete, they turned back to their work stations.


	14. Seokjin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! This is my first story here, so I'd love some feedback!

“So you mentioned you might be able to get us a job,” Seokjin said as he and Mark sat in Mark’s room, Seokjin flipping idly through a an old Im photo album, noting that Jinyoung and Jungkook (the doe-eyed boy) appeared in almost every picture, Jimin appearing in many as well.

“Yeah, I used to work at a café and the owner loved me, so…” Mark shrugged a little.

Seokjin grinned. “Does every café owner love you, Mark?” They’d worked at a café back home—Seokjin’s home. “Who are these people?” He was looking at a picture with the Im family, Jinyoung, Jimin, Jungkook, the other boy from the picture by Mark’s bed, and a smiling young couple.

Mark leaned over. “Those are Mr. and Mrs. Jung, Hoseok and Jungkook’s parents. We were all on a big picnic that day.”

“Why aren’t Jinyoung and Jimin’s parents in any of these?”

Mark was quiet for a moment. “They died,” he said at last. “Jinyoung and Jimin live with their aunt and uncle.”

Seokjin didn’t press him, returning to the picture. It was almost funny how obviously in love Mark and Jinyoung were.

“Is Jinyoung seeing anyone right now?” Seokjin asked. When Mark didn’t reply right away, he turned. Mark was staring at him.

“Not like that!” Seokjin yelped.  “What kind of person do you think I am? I was wondering when you were planning to ask him out again.”

Mark looked away. “I don’t know if he’s seeing anyone.”

“Jaebum would probably know,” Seokjin prompted. Mark shot him a dark look. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of unresolved…” he moved his hands a little vaguely, “ _stuff_ here. It’s not going to help to let it build up.”

Mark got up. “Do you want to go see about that job?”

“Now?” Seokjin got up, too, looking for his shoes.

“Might as well.” Mark led the way out of his room and out of the house.

It was a ten-minute walk to Londa’s Café, where Mark was greeted by a teary-eyed little old lady who hugged him for nearly ten minutes once they got there. Without them even asking, she offered Mark his job, along with a job for his “handsome young gentleman.” Neither of them had the heart to let her know they were just friends.

She introduced them to the only other people who were working there at the time, her son, Youngbae, and his young wife, Hyorin. Both were more than happy to share the load with Seokjin and Mark. It turned out Hyorin had tutored both Youngjae and BamBam at various times, and Youngbae was Youngjae’s vocal coach. By the time they’d figured out all of the connections, it all felt rather cozy.

Still, Seokjin felt a little nervous when Youngbae and Mark slipped into the back, where the bakery was, leaving Seokjin and Hyorin to man the front.

Hyorin was endlessly patient, teaching him the basics and answering all his questions. Most of the customers, too, were understanding when she told them Seokjin was on his first day. It didn’t hurt that half the female customers (and a few of the males) couldn’t meet his eyes without blushing.

None, though, could top the teenager—perhaps a year or two younger than Seokjin—who met Seokjin’s gaze and turned such a dark red that Seokjin wondered if he was having some sort of fit.

“Namjoon!” Hyorin called. “How are you? Are you and the boys locked up in your studio? Yoongi sent you on a coffee run?”

Namjoon, who still didn’t seem ready to form words, nodded.

Hyorin gave a tinkling little laugh. “Namjoon is in a band,” she explained, apparently already knowing the purple boy’s order, entering it into the register and taking his money. “He writes lyrics and his friend, the composer, has an addiction.”

As soon as he could, Namjoon retreated to a far corner, still almost as dark.

“Is he okay?” Seokjin asked Hyorin as quietly as he could.

Hyorin gave another little laugh. “You’re very handsome, Seokjin,” was all she said.

To his shock, when Namjoon got his coffee from Hyorin, the boy turned and looked at Seokjin. At Seokjin’s chin, to be precise, but it was progress.

“I’m Namjoon,” he said, voice a little shaky.

“Seokjin. What’s you band called?” Seokjin had been trying to calm him down, but Namjoon’s blush only got worse.

“They’re called Bulletproof Boy Scouts,” Hyorin said, beaming.

“Our, uh, name is in revision,” Namjoon muttered. He stood there for a moment longer, then his eyes darted up and briefly met Seokjin, his face purpling again, and he turned on his heel and practically fled.


	15. Jinyoung

Jinyoung’s phone buzzed against his leg and he leaned away from Jaebum, who rested his forehead on Jinyoung’s shoulder instead.

It was a text from Jimin.

“Jimin says they’re getting supper at a diner Tae knows. Hobi and company are joining. Want to go?”

Jaebum sighed. Jinyoung knew that sigh.

“We can stay here,” he said, running a hand through Jaebum’s hair. All the things he couldn’t do anywhere else, the things he could only do when they were here, shut away in Jaebum’s room.

Jaebum hummed against his shoulder. Jinyoung kissed the top of his head. It was getting dark. But the others would make sure Jimin got home safe. As excitable as Hobi could be, as absent-minded as Namjoon could be, as cold as Yoongi could be, they would never let one of the kids get hurt. It was an unspoken understanding between all of them, the older ones.

Speaking of the kids…

“Youngjae knows, doesn’t he?”

Jaebum gave a little laugh. “What do you think?”

And…okay. It was a stupid question. Youngjae always seemed to be around, and they weren’t always maybe as quiet as they should be.

But Youngjae would know not to say anything. It almost hurt to realize that there probably wasn’t much of anyone for Youngjae to share the information with anyway.

“Does Jimin?” Jaebum asked, pulling back to meet Jinyoung’s eyes.

Jinyoung shrugged. “I haven’t told him, but I never told him about Mark either, and he knew.”

Jaebum hummed, eyes flicking over Jinyoung’s face. “And now Mark’s back.”

“With Seokjin,” Jinyoung said, threading his fingers through Jaebum’s to give himself something to do with his hands.

“I don’t think it’s like that.”

“Does it matter?” Jinyoung didn’t mean it to come out as sharply as it did. But why were they talking about Mark now, lying on Jaebum’s bed? Mark didn’t matter here.

“I just meant…I know what this is. And you shouldn’t worry about me if you and Mark…figure things out.” Jaebum was staring straight at him, face earnest, but Jinyoung looked away.

All seemed quiet in the Im household—no doubt Youngjae was holed away somewhere, while Mrs. Im seemed to still be gone on her errands. Mark, Seokjin, and the kids weren’t back yet, either.

Thunder rolled as Jinyoung rolled them over, the first drops of rain falling. Jinyoung was hovering over Jaebum, Jaebum's eyes half-closed beneath him, when there was a soft knock at the door.

Jinyoung sighed a little, but rolled over onto the other side of the bed as Jaebum got up to answer it. "Yes, Youngjae?"

Youngjae said something so quietly Jinyoung couldn't hear it, but a moment later the younger boy was trailing behind Jaebum to where Jinyoung lay. Jaebum mouthed something at him, but Jinyoung couldn't understand it. It didn't matter; it wasn't like Jinyoung would be upset at Youngjae for joining them, no matter the reason.

"Sorry," Youngjae muttered, even as Jinyoung pulled him into a one-armed hug. It was already tight enough with Jinyoung and Jaebum on the bed that there had been a few times when one had fallen off if they got too rough, so with Youngjae there as well, they had to huddle in close, hugging each other. Not that Youngjae seemed to mind, curled between the two older boys.

"Jaebum said you're not planning on going back to choir next year?" Jinyoung said. He'd been meaning to talk to Youngjae about it ever since Jaebum mentioned it, but he was rarely alone with the younger boy anymore.

Youngjae, who was curled into Jinyoung's chest with Jaebum wrapped around him from behind, shrugged a little, but didn't say anything.

"Why not?" Jinyoung asked.

Again, Youngjae just shrugged.

"Youngjae." Jaebum's voice was gentle, but firm.

There was another roll of thunder and Youngjae whimpered a little. Jaebum seemed about to press the issue, but Jinyoung reached over to cup his face with the hand Youngjae wasn't lying on, resting his thumb over Jaebum's lips. Now was not the time to try and force painful truths.

So they lay in silence, Youngjae's breathing evening out between them, Jaebum bringing a hand up to rest on Jinyoung's forearm, his own eyes closing. And Jinyoung rested easy with two of the people he loved most.


	16. Seokjin

Mark was still laughing at Seokjin and his encounter with Namjoon when they walked into Mark's house, which seemed strangely quiet.

"Where is everyone?" Seokjin asked, straining his ears for any other noises in the house.

Mark led the way upstairs, glancing in BamBam's room. Seokjin squinted through Jaebum and Youngjae's slightly-open door and sucked in a breath. He tried to close the door without Mark seeing, but when he turned around, Mark's face said he'd seen enough. Seen Jinyoung curled around Youngjae, fingers intertwined with Jaebum's. It was almost painfully intimate. Seokjin tried to think of something to say, to point out that it didn’t necessarily mean anything romantic, but nothing came out.

Mark’s phone buzzed. When he checked it, some of the tension left his shoulders. “I’m back to my old job. It’s time to start dinner!”

Seokjin followed him down to the kitchen, where Mark seemed to know his way around pretty instinctively.

“Do you remember the time we cooked for my parents’ anniversary?” Seokjin asked, standing back and waiting to be told what to do. He had learned, working with Mark, that they both loved cooking, but Seokjin still had next to no experience.

Mark chuckled a little. “We tried to keep it simple, just barbeque pizza and a salad. Do you think your mom’s forgiven us for breaking the oven?”

“I think she’s all but forgotten _that_ , but I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of her lectures on proper knife handling.”

Mark laughed for real this time, head tilted back. “Butter these,” he instructed, handing Seokjin a plastic knife with a grin and passing on the slices of bread he cut.

Seokjin obeyed, not even complaining about the knife, especially considering he could rarely see the long, bulging scar on his hand better than when he was using a knife. “In my defense, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to try and cut ice in half.”

“Just _listen_ to yourself,” Mark groaned. “I’m going to tell your mother you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

“No please anything but that!” Seokjin cried. “Mark, no, you don’t _understand_ she will never let me touch even a _plastic_ knife again!” He flung himself dramatically across Mark’s back, wrapping his arms around the tiny waist. “Please, have mercy!”

“Is this a bad time?”

Without releasing Mark, Seokjin turned, then jumped back. Jinyoung stood alone in the kitchen entryway, dark hair tousled, eyes a bit puffy. Gorgeous, if Seokjin was being honest with himself.

“No, Mom just asked us to make supper,” Mark said lightly, turning to frown at Seokjin. “Are you done with the bread yet?”

“Can I help?” Jinyoung asked, stepping a bit more into the room as Seokjin returned to buttering the bread.

“You can keep an eye on him,” Mark said. “He’s not to be trusted with knives.”

“So I heard,” Jinyoung murmured, so softly Seokjin doubted Mark had heard him. He wondered how long Jinyoung had been listening to them.

“Jaebum and Youngjae are still sleeping?” Mark’s voice was decidedly casual.

Jinyoung opened the cutlery drawer and grabbed a real knife, helping Seokjin. “Yeah. I think Youngjae’s really been stressed.”

“About what?” Seokjin asked, frowning a little.

Jinyoung’s eyes darted up, taking in Seokjin’s face, then Mark’s back. “He’s not great with change.”

“And Jaebum?” Mark asked, finally turning fully around, taking two slices of bread from Seokjin, adding cheese between them, then placing them on the sizzling skillet behind him.

Jinyoung looked up. Seokjin stilled his knife. It was white with little pink flowers on it. Huh. He wondered who it belonged to. A gag gift, or did Jaebum secretly love pink flowers? He continued to stare at the knife, refusing to intrude on the silence between Mark and Jinyoung.

After a few heavy moments, Jinyoung said, “Jaebum had it pretty rough.”

A dozen or so innuendos popped into Seokjin’s head, but he forced them down.

They heard footsteps on the stairs and Mark turned away to flip the sandwich.

Youngjae and Jaebum appeared in the entryway. Seokjin kept from cooing at Youngjae, who looked adorable with fluffy bedhead and puffy face. “How old are you, Youngjae?” he asked instead.

“Fifteen,” Youngjae said, avoiding his eyes.

“What do you like to do in your free time?”

Youngjae glanced up at him quickly, reminiscent of the boy Seokjin had met at the café—Namjin? “I sing. In the school choir. Or I used to, anyway.”

“Why not anymore?”

Youngjae shrugged.

“You should,” Mark said. “You have a fantastic voice.”

“Can I hear it?” Seokjin really wanted to see the boy’s eyes again.

“I don’t really…sing for people.” Youngjae murmured.

“But it’s just us, Jaejae,” Mark said, turning again and dropping the sandwich on a plate Jinyoung had placed on the counter. “You’ve sung for us before.”

“I had a friend,” Youngjae said, a little abruptly. At their blank faces, he continued, “In choir. He convinced me to join with him. He was what made it fun.”

“And now?” Seokjin prompted.

“He’s gone.”

There was a moment of horrified silence, then Jinyoung said, “He’s not dead! God. He moved away.”

“It was very sudden,” Jaebum said, speaking for the first time. His throat sounded scratchy.

Without saying anything, Mark moved to the sink and filled a glass of water, handing it to Jaebum, who seemed too surprised to say anything.

Youngjae’s eyes followed his every move.

Seokjin turned away, wishing he had more bread to butter. When he looked up, Jaebum was regarding him, dark eyes unreadable.

“Seokjin met someone named Namjoon at the café today,” Mark said. “Hyorin said his brothers are friends with Jimin and BamBam?”

“Mom mentioned them last night,” Jaebum said. “Namjoon’s my age, Taehyung’s Youngjae’s age, and Yugyeom’s Bam’s age.”

“Speaking of which,” Jinyoung said, turning to Youngjae, “Jimin keeps saying you should get to know Taehyung. He’s really nice.

Youngjae shrugged and mumbled something. Then, “Is anyone else going to eat that sandwich?”

Mark handed it to him, and they all moved to sit at the table together. The rest of supper went by without much incident, except for BamBam returning with the pink-haired boy, who Seokjin was about 90% sure was Jimin, Jinyoung’s younger brother. When he rolled up a sleeve to grab the rest of Jinyoung’s sandwich—“Brat!” Jinyoung muttered good-naturedly—Seokjin caught the barest glimpse of a jagged scar running across the back of his hand. It looked even worse than Seokjin’s own scar, and certainly not as clean.

“Make _me_ a sandwich!” BamBam said, hanging off the back of Jaebum’s chair.

Jaebum elbowed him off. “Ask Mark, he’s the one who made the rest of them.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then BamBam threw himself on the back of Mark’s chair. “ _Mark_ ,” he whined.

Laughing, Mark got up and made him a sandwich, loudly turning down Seokjin’s offer to slice the bread, which led to an animated retelling of how Seokjin got his scar. Seokjin couldn’t help but glance at Jimin, whose face was neutral, now sharing a chair with his brother. So Seokjin didn’t ask, turning back to his plate and finishing supper, after which Jinyoung and Jimin left, Jinyoung chiding Jimin on going another day without doing any of his summer homework—“You’ve only got a week to do it!”—and Jaebum helped Mark and Seokjin clean up in near-silence. Neither Seokjin or Mark mentioned seeing him with Jinyoung and Youngjae, but somehow it felt like they had.


	17. Jungkook

When they had dropped off the Kim brothers, BamBam, and Jimin, Hoseok drove them to Londa’s for coffee.

“So you’re starting freshman year,” he began, once they were all three sitting down. Hoseok had gotten some sort of tea, Yoongi had an iced coffee, and Jungkook had a milk box.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, that was the plan.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched. Jungkook felt something in him curl up a little.

“Are you excited? Nervous? Neutral?”

Jungkook shrugged, then felt a hand on his. It was Yoongi, dark cat-eyes intense. “You can be honest with us.”

Jungkook tried to meet his eyes. “It’s just…I’ve never even gone to school before. And the transition from homeschool to public school was hard for _Hoseok_. Let alone me.”

Hoseok shrugged a little. “It was hard. And then it got easier. I already knew Jaebum from dance, but I got to know him better at school. And I met Namjoon and Hoseok. My best friends in the world I’ve met in high school.”

“But it’s okay to be nervous,” Yoongi added. “High school can suck. I’m not really going to miss it at all this year. But I will miss the people.”

“That’s the thing. You know Bam and Gyeomie, but you’ll know them _so_ much better once you see them every day and have classes with them. You can talk about classes and teachers and homework together.”

“Remember how bored you always were last year? Well now you’ll have school. You won’t be bored, just frustrated. And silently loathing half the people around you.”

“ _Yoongi_.”

“And ultimately, Hobi’s there.”

“That’s right. I’m here. I’ll be here for you, no matter what. You’ve just got to talk to me. Or to Yoongi, even though he’s off to college this year.”

“I’m just a text away,” Yoongi promised, and Jungkook tried not to feel too okay. Because yes, he knew they were there for him. But still. This was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever do.

When he said that, though, both older boys burst out laughing.

“If this is the hardest thing you ever do,” Yoongi said, “I envy you, kid.”

“Seriously, Kookie, it’s not going to be that bad,” Hoseok promised, getting up and sitting beside Jungkook on the booth so he could drape an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “ _And_ you already know two people in your grade! You’ll be _fine_.”

“I don’t have any classes with BamBam or Yugyeom,” Jungkook muttered, feeling his face getting hotter.

“So you’ll make new friends,” Hoseok said without hesitation. “I believe in you, Kookie.”

“And so do I,” Yoongi said, voice completely sincere.

“And if anyone gives you trouble…”

“We’ll make them regret the day they were born.” Yoongi’s face was cold and hard.

The cheerful little bell above Londa’s door chimed and two young men walked in, wearing all black and heavily made up, pierced, and tattooed. A third person—a boy, quite a bit younger—trailed in after them, eyes sliding over Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook. He was less pierced and tattooed, but he had a pair of piercings under the left side of his lip and his eyes were surrounded by heavy black makeup. When those eyes slid back over them and caught Jungkook’s, he winked.

Jungkook felt his face heat up and he heard Hoseok chuckling, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy, who reached over and tugged at the arm of one of the young men. The older guy turned and glanced over at Jungkook, then down at his young friend, leaning over a bit and grabbing the boy’s chin to kiss him.

Jungkook felt like his stomach had flipped upside down as the two made out in the front of Londa’s Café. As he watched, the older guy reached down and groped at the boy’s crotch.

“Damn,” Yoongi said, eyebrows high on his forehead.

“That’s pretty hot,” Hoseok said, nodding.

Jungkook was barely breathing when the two finally pulled apart, the older turning away and saying something to the other guy, who shoved him. The boy, though, was staring at Jungkook, a smirk growing on his face. Still holding Jungkook’s gaze, he swaggered across the restaurant to stand in front of the table.

“Want to join us, cutie?” the boy asked, smirk growing.

It took a moment for Jungkook to compose himself enough to release anything that wasn’t a whimper, but before he could respond, Hoseok did.

“He’s fourteen. Leave him alone.”

“Jealous?” the boy said, without looking at Hoseok. “C’mon sweetheart, we can show you a good time.”

“You don’t look all that old yourself,” Yoongi said.

The boy turned to look at him. “You could join too, if you like,” he said, licking his lips, tongue lingering by the piercings. “Or my big brother might like you. He loves pretty little things he can throw around.”

At this, the fire in Jungkook seemed to be suddenly snuffed out. The boy no longer seemed alluring and arousing. He was just crude and arrogant.

But before Jungkook could say anything, the older boy who hadn’t kissed this kid yelled, “Junhong! Get your ass up here and take your damn coffee!” He was holding two to-go cups in his hands.

“Last chance, boys,” Junhong said, eyes dancing. After waiting a moment, he shrugged and strolled away, hips moving unnecessarily, stirring the fire in Jungkook just a little.

And then they were out the door and gone.

"Damn," Yoongi said again, and Jungkook couldn't agree more.


	18. Namjoon

Namjoon sat on his bed, soullessly scrolling through pages of policy as Taehyung and Yugyeom yelled at each other over headsets, playing some sort of video game.

There was a knock on Namjoon’s bedpost. His father stood at the edge of the curtain, eyebrows raised. “Can I come in?”

Namjoon nodded, pulling his feet up so his father could sit at the end of his bed.

“How’s it going?”

Namjoon shrugged. “I’m still reading through policies. Who knew I’d be doing this much reading before I even got to class.”

His father chuckled, then ran his hands over his face. “Joon, you know I think you’re incredible for doing this, right?”

Frowning, Namjoon crossed his legs, setting his computer down on them and leaning forward. “Of course.”

“But I’m also your father. And…I’m worried about you. You’re so, so smart, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes what?”

His father sighed heavily. “Sometimes the little things slip past you, Joon. The _people_ things. Maybe—Maybe one more year of high school isn’t the worst thing ever, you know? You’re just starting to make friends there—”

“Dad.” Namjoon struggled to keep his voice firm, but calm. “I love you. And I know you’re worried and it’s your job to be worried. But please. I can take care of myself. Skipping a year was my idea. No one forced me. And you’re kidding yourself if you think I’m leaving much of anyone behind. Yoongi’s going to college. Jackson left. Hoseok will still be there, but I’ll see him in the studio anyway.” He waited.

His father blew out a breath. “I just feel a little lost sometimes, you know? I find myself wondering if, if your mother was here, she would do the same things, or if she’d do it differently.” He gave a sad little chuckle. “I suppose that’s hopelessly sappy, isn’t it?”

Namjoon, not quite trusting his voice, shook his head and, in a moment of impulse, moved his computer aside and crawled down the bed to give his father a hug.


	19. Youngjae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE the rating has changed. I thought it was going to fall more under the "Teen and Up" category but, to be safe, I've decided I'd better rate it Mature, for eventual adult themes and possible sexual content, as well as language. I DON'T, however, plan on having any overly explicit sexual content or violence, but this is my first fic so I'd rather be safe than sorry.

The first day of school came far too quickly. The last week was strangely quiet in the Im household—there was still some hesitation, how to act around Mark and Seokjin, who weren’t starting school until a week after Jaebum, Youngjae, and BamBam went back. Youngjae would be going back to school and, under the influence of Jinyoung, back to choir, although he doubted he would pass auditions for either of the choirs Jinyoung was in, the top school choir or the elite a cappella group.

And yet he still found himself up on the top floor of the music building. Though his audition wasn’t next—there was one boy (Jimin, from the voice) in the director’s office and then another one who should have been waiting his turn outside before Youngjae—Youngjae was alone in the poorly-lit hallway. He could hear the boy in the office—yes, that was almost certainly Jimin—singing up a scale, then back down. Then vocal exercises to test his range. Youngjae’s mouth had never felt drier; his throat had never felt tighter.

He heard raucous laughter in the stairwell and tensed. He needed to be able to _focus_ , not get distracted by—

Two boys appeared at the top of the stairs. Identical in every way, from short, fluffy black hair and dark, glittering eyes to the school uniforms, they gave Youngjae matching huge smiles. Still giggling a bit, they snuck over to stand outside the director’s office for a moment, ears pressed to the door, then checked the schedule posted between the door and the stairwell. This caused another fit of laughter.

And they turned on Youngjae.

“Are you Choi Youngjae?” one asked.

Youngjae nodded, licking his lips. Why had he done that? Was that strange?

“I’m Yoo Youngjae,” the other boy, who hadn’t spoken, said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “This is my brother, Daehyun.”

Daehyun winked at Youngjae, who felt his face heat up.

The door to the director’s office opened and Jimin emerged, face pink but smiling, only getting brighter when he saw Youngjae sitting outside.

“Jung Daehyun?” he asked, glancing between the twins. Daehyun waved a hand and strolled over to the office, entering with a cheerful greeting. Youngjae sank further into his chair, even as Jimin gripped his shoulder on his way past. The other Youngjae—Yoo Youngjae—came to sit beside him.

“This won’t do, Youngjae,” he murmured. “One of us needs to go by something else, or it’ll just be confusing. I suppose I could be Yoo…Or maybe Yoojae. I like that. What do you think? Youngjae and Yoojae?”

Youngjae had to clear his throat several times before he could say anything. “You don’t…have to do that. I—you’ll probably be in the top choir, and I know I’m not—”

“Don’t say things like that!” Yoojae said loudly. “You’ll be spectacular. I can tell.”

Youngjae flushed and looked away.

“Do you really not remember us at all?”

Youngjae looked up. Yoojae was staring at him.

“No?” Youngjae said. He was pretty sure he would remember them.

Yoojae laughed again. “I suppose we look a _bit_ different now. We met when our family came and visited our cousins. I think they’re called Hoseok and Jungkook.”

“Oh.” Youngjae could vaguely remember that, the Jungs’ distant relatives arriving and—

“We put on a talent show. You sang. So I’ve already heard you sing and I know you’ll be incredible.”

Youngjae had never felt his face burn like this before. “I just…get nervous. In front of anyone.”

“Hmm.” Yoojae was staring again. He really was attractive, snub nose and bow-shaped mouth and why was Youngjae noticing these things? “I think I could help get your mind off that, maybe,” Yoojae was saying. And then he wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Youngjae, because Yoojae was _kissing_ him, all lips and tongue and even teeth and Youngjae couldn’t breathe.

And as soon as it began, the kiss ended and Youngjae was left sitting on the couch in the dingy fourth floor of the music building as the director’s door opened and Daehyun strolled out, eyes scanning Youngjae up and down, a small smirk on his lips.

As Youngjae shakily got to his feet to go to his audition, Daehyun caught his hand and brought it to his lips. “One from each of us,” he said, kissing it softly, staring into Youngjae’s eyes.

“Choi Youngjae?”

The connection was broken as Youngjae hurried to enter the office, standing in front of the stern-looking music teacher. He sat at the piano, spectacles perched precariously, fingers curled like spider-legs over the pale keys.

“How are you today, Youngjae?”

“I’m well, sir. How are you?”

The teacher gave him a wan smile. “I suppose I am also well. I’m glad to see you back; I was worried you might quit after Jackson left.”

Youngjae flushed. “I considered it, sir, but Jinyoung convinced me not to.” And if he hadn’t, Youngjae thought, he might not have had that incredibly strange encounter with Daehyun and Yoojae, whatever it had been—

“Well, what will you be singing today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, so just to be clear: Jung Daehyun and Yoo Youngjae (hereafter known as Yoojae) are identical twins in this story, in spite of having different surnames. They are Hoseok and Jungkook's cousins.
> 
> Also, PLEASE NOTE the rating has changed. I thought it was going to fall more under the "Teen and Up" category but, to be safe, I've decided I'd better rate it Mature, for eventual adult themes and possible sexual content, as well as language. I DON'T, however, plan on having any overly explicit sexual content or violence, but this is my first fic so I'd rather be safe than sorry.


	20. Jaebum

Jaebum had not missed school.

It wasn’t that he necessarily struggled academically, but there was just something about _sitting_ through all these classes, being talked at, and then coming home to hours of homework, only to barely be mediocre.

And, of course, there was school lunch.

The lunchroom had six tables running the length of the room with attached benches. Along one side was the hot lunch buffet, but Jaebum ignored it, food already packed in his lunchbox. He was scanning the heads in the crowd to see if he could see Hoseok’s floppy mop (Jinyoung had a different lunch from them). Instead, he saw Youngjae, sitting more or less alone near the windows, his head bowed steeply over his food. Jaebum bit the inside of his cheek; Youngjae’s audition for choir was supposed to be just before lunch.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever might have happened, Jaebum strode over to his younger brother.

“How’s it going, Youngjae?” he asked, dropping into the seat across from him.

Youngjae jumped a little, but smiled when he saw Jaebum. “I’m okay.”

“How’d your audition go?”

To Jaebum’s surprise, Youngjae’s face split into a huge grin. “It went really well! The director said he was really impressed, and it was clear I’d been working hard over the summer.”

“That’s fantastic!” Jaebum said, grinning as well.

“What’s fantastic?” Hoseok appeared behind Youngjae, taking the seat next to him.

“Youngjae had a great choir audition,” Jaebum said, feeling a bit proud.

“Good job!” Hoseok actually gave him a hug, and though Jaebum saw Youngjae stiffen a little, it didn’t seem to dampen his excitement. “And how has your day been?” he asked, turning to Jaebum.

Jaebum shrugged; he’d spent most of it working to sit beside Jinyoung, who was in most of his classes before lunch, and not fall asleep. He’d spent a lot of the night before finishing up homework that had taken a backseat while they prepared for the summer showcase at Bell Dance Studio. “It’s been a first day. Lots of going over the syllabus and teachers trying to tell us that they’re 'fun' and going to 'prepare us for college'.”

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok said, “aren’t Mark and Yoongi and Joon the lucky ones? A whole extra week of summer. I swear to God, if they start a new song without me…”

“Have you seen Jungkook?” Jaebum asked. “How’s he dealing with freshman year?”

Hoseok sighed a little. “He was so nervous the other night when Yoongi and I sat him down. I didn’t realize he was dreading this whole starting school thing so much. Mom and Dad were actually considering homeschooling him for high school, too. But I talked them out of that.”

“Are your cousins here?” Youngjae asked, surprising both of them. Jaebum had sort of forgotten he was there.

“My cousins?” Hoseok asked. “Which ones?”

“Daehyun and Youngjae.”

Hoseok shrugged. “Not that I know of, but our family isn’t super close to them, so they could be, I guess. Why? Did you see them? Little shits, they stole a magazine from me last time they visited.”

Youngjae mumbled something incoherent and ducked his head. He was blushing, for some reason.

 

After lunch, Jinyoung caught Jaebum in the hallway, grabbing his arm and pulling him down another hallway and into an empty art classroom, shoving him against the door and kissing him, harder than usual, hands pinning Jaebum’s arms to the door, legs slotted, one between Jaebum’s, one of Jaebum’s between his.

It took a moment, but when they had to break apart to breathe, Jaebum gasped, “What was _that_ all about?”

Jinyoung only latched onto his neck, sucking and biting and Jaebum clenched his jaw. He couldn’t do anything but stand there and enjoy it, his arms still held against the door.

“ _Jinyoung_ …?” It was part-gasp, part-moan, part-question.

Jinyoung stepped back, hand covering his mouth, eyes on fire. For a moment he just stared at Jaebum, then reached out to straighten his uniform, adjusting the collar—though Jaebum doubted it could come close to hiding the bruise he knew would be just under his jaw.

“See you in a bit,” Jinyoung promised lightly, pulling Jaebum to him for one last, chaste kiss on the lips before he slipped past, out the door, leaving Jaebum alone in the room, confused and aroused.

As he arrived in his last class of the day, he got a text from Jinyoung that only read:

 

**JYP -.-**

Still think I miss Mark? ;)

 

Jaebum didn’t respond, because his answer still hadn’t changed.


End file.
